


La Sylphide

by darlingdisastrous



Series: Me and My Husband - Anthology [1]
Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Age Difference, Assassins, Ballet, Ballet Dancer Reader, Chance Meetings, Corps de Ballet - Freeform, Curious Reader, F/M, First Meetings, I guess it’s a meet cute, La Sylphide - Ballet, Meet-Cute, Minor Character Death, Murder, Nen (Hunter X Hunter), Nen abilities, Older Man/Younger Woman, Oneshot, POV First Person, Public Assassination, Reader-Insert, Romance, Self-Indulgent, Self-Insert, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Theatre, York New City Ballet, Yorkshin City | Yorknew City (Hunter X Hunter), Younger Illumi Zoldyck, age gap, no y/n
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:02:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26673337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darlingdisastrous/pseuds/darlingdisastrous
Summary: On the evening of your first company performance, you encounter a strange boy ...
Relationships: Illumi Zoldyck/Reader
Series: Me and My Husband - Anthology [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1940818
Comments: 5
Kudos: 104





	La Sylphide

**Author's Note:**

> Reader is around fourteen at this time, Illumi is nineteen.

This isn’t my first time in Karnegie Hall. This isn’t my first time being able to travel back stage. (Having a semi-famous father meant I often traveled with him for his performances.) However, this _is_ the first time I’m at Karnegie for myself, allowing me enough time to explore the cavernous, creeping halls uninterrupted.

Old buildings had always fascinated me. They all carried the same energy, the same mystique. Now, rationally, I understood that there would be no ghosts or ghouls hiding in the theatre, but that little nagging what-if feeling spurred me on. It sent a little thrill right through me. (For this, I blame my father. As an ex-pro Hunter, his adventures always made me want to create my own.)

I suppose that's the biggest benefit from being the youngest in the corps. It's easy to sneak away from the group when you're in the back. (And, if you happen to know a thing-or-two about Zetsu. Thanks dad.)

It would take Madame at least a full run-through of the variation before she noticed I was gone. That was more than enough time for me to explore.

Steathily, I duck behind a pillar. A couple of girls my senior shuffle past, giggling with hushed voices lest they incur the wrath of the instructors.

I wait until they've disappeared through the backstage door before continuing, admiring the decrepit theatre and the eerie feeling it instilled within me.

The narrow corridors were swathed head-to-toe in varying shades of chalky-red. Some parts of the carpet had worn away over the years. The staff chose - instead of replacing it - to mend the threadbare spots with duct-tape one shade too bright. Old velvet curtains hung betwixt openings in the auditorium, giving privacy to those inside. (And, providing me cover to sneak around uninterrupted.) The ceiling was crumbling. It had been for years. Red flecks of paint fluttered down like snowflakes onto the carpet occasionally, revealing bits of white and moldy-yellow.

Most of the dancers were vocal about their hatred of Karnegie; how the ruin made them feel gross or creeped out. I disagreed. This place was beautiful in its own right, probably the prettiest building in all of York New. 

I follow the corridor until it forks out. One direction lead down a set of stairs to the restrooms (the girls all swear it's haunted) and the other down a dark hallway. I choose to avoid the restrooms this go around. There's a high likelihood that at least a few girls will be in there, and I'd rather not risk getting caught.

Instead, I chose the darkened corridor, which connected to some old and unused part of the auditorium. The sounds from the stage were all-but silenced in this part of the theatre, almost like I was in my own little world. Frescos decorated one side of the wall, depicting scenes from a masquerade.

I admire them as I creep along, making my steps as soft as possible.

And then, I spot it. The door to nowhere. It sat maybe fifteen feet off the ground, embedded into the wall. There was a red-metal latter built into the wall, which lead all the way up to the door.

I square my shoulders, checking either way to make sure none of the instructors had come after me yet, and began to climb. It was when I reached the top, I was confronted with a serious issue. The rungs stopped short of the door, and there was no ledge of any kind for me to pull myself up on.

I gave the door an experimental push with my fingers. It was heavy. It barely opens before slamming back shut. I try again, but it's the same as before. There's no way I can open it as is. 

_What a drag_!

I lean my head against the rough wall, huffing. I suppose I could keep going; but, I was nearing the end of my time limit. 

Suddenly, I'm aware of a figure lurking in my periphery. My heart lurches, my superstitious getting the best of me for a fraction of a second. _A ghost_...? The figure doesn’t waver or vanish. It’s solid. A human. Mentally, I smack myself for my childishness. If anything, it’s an instructor.

Quickly, I jumped off of the latter and land a little too hard. My pointe shoes do nothing to absorb the shock.

I'm only just starting to formulate my excuse when I finally get a good look at the figure. No, it wasn't an instructor. Though, I'm not sure he _isn't_ a ghost, either.

It was a boy. Well, maybe _boy_ wasn't the right word. He wasn't old, but he certainly wasn't my age. Maybe a few years older than I, and pale like death. I swallow hard, finding his gaze more than a little intimidating. Was I staring too long? Was he?

He was pretty, I realize. He had a sort of unconventional beauty about him; his unnatural paleness off-set by inky black hair and wide, doll-like eyes.

He must be one of the other dancers' boyfriend, I thought. Definitely not a brother. I didn't know anyone who looked as ... well, who _looks_ like him.

I smile weakly.

The boy doesn't return it. His gaze is unwavering; but, he doesn't seem frightened or interested in me. His expression is blank, dead almost. I don't think I've ever seen someone look like that.

"You know Zetsu," he said, his voice as monotonous as his face.

His comment caught me off guard. "What?"

The boy doesn't elaborate.

I tug on my overdress awkwardly, and it finally registers with me what he said. "Oh - Zetsu, yeah. Only a little, though."

Again, only silence.

My eyes dart behind him. No one is with him. He shouldn't've been in the restrooms. There were some stationed in the lobby for patrons, the downstairs ones were for performers.

"Are you lost?" I ask.

"I'm perfectly aware of my location."

"Okay..." This guy was weird. He just kept staring. Do I have something on my face? "Well, everyone's in the auditorium right now. Madame doesn't really like family and friends to come into the auditorium early; but, you can wait in the lobby if you'd like. I can tell someone you're here...?"

The boy finally blinked, but his expression remained unchanged. "No thanks."

The corridor fell silent once again. This was starting to move into the 'creepy-uncomfortable' zone. And, unfortunately for me, he's blocking the only exit. I inhaled shakily and force another smile.

Slowly, I begin to edge towards him. His eyes follow my movements.

"Alrighty then. I've got to get back ... So ..."

He still doesn't move, not even when I'm right up on him. ( _Wow_ , I catch myself thinking, _he's tall_.) I glance between him and the small sliver of space that leads back out to the auditorium. He doesn't take the hint. (Really, I can't say I'm shocked given his complete lack of social cues this entire time.) 

I take it upon myself to squeeze through the limited space left, and only once I'm through does the guy step back a little, if only to keep staring. I don't bother to look back at him, or smile, and choose to sprint back to the auditorium.

ღ

I all but forgot about the strange encounter and the even stranger boy by the time the matinee began. As soon as the curtains went up, my thoughts were no longer my own. Instead, I thrust myself into the world of _La Sylphide_ , thinking of nothing else but the performance I was about to give.

I wasn't on until the wedding scene, so I focused my energy on marking the first dance with a few corps girls around my age.

"Where did you go earlier?" the little blonde, known as Jo, whispers.

Not wanting to break concentration, I say, "To the restroom."

I can tell she wants to know more; but, before she can ask, Madame shoots us a harsh glare and we all shut up.

We hear our cue in the music. I only have a moment to smooth out my peasant-girl costume before I must meet my mark on stage in a flurry of bourrees. The lights are blinding, the audience one big anonymous mass to me. If it weren't for the vague shadows in the front row, and the occasional round of applause, I wouldn't even know it was a full house.

There is a brief moment of reprieve and my gaze wanders, almost instinctually. Up in one of the boxes closest to the stage, I catch a glimpse of a familiar figure. I have no time to recognize who it is, and threw myself into the next sequence.

I didn't give it anymore thought for the rest of the evening.

ღ

It isn't until the end of the performance that anyone notices the dead bodies in the first box, closest to the stage. An entire group killed without anyone seeing or hearing a thing! Both the theatre, and the dancers, erupt into a panic.

The next morning, the murders are plastered all over the York New Times: _Mafia Don on Pins and Needles for LA SYLPHIDE_! _The show was to die for_.


End file.
